


Ghost

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, One Shot, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:00:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A brief one-shot taking place after Lena is presumed dead, before Amélie is brainwashed, and right as they lose everything.





	

It was night when she appeared.

The single fluorescent bulb among the sink gave Amélie a scant bit of light, bouncing off the thoroughly scrubbed white tile walls. The whole kitchen was suffocatingly sterile after Gerard had ever so annoyingly insisted on cleaning it till no speck of dirt was left. Amélie had crept downstairs for a sip of water and stood with her elbows up on the cold counter, gazing blankly into nothingness, feeling everything and nothing all at once, struggling to keep up with all that life was throwing at her.

And then... there was this.

Lena appeared suddenly. One moment she hadn't been there, and the next second she simply... was. Amélie gasped and froze - it couldn't be. Lena was dead. She couldn't have simply... materialized in her kitchen.

But here she was. Just... different.

Normally adorned with a pair of silly shades and a sunny smile, she now had neither. Her face was pale and shadowed, looking as if she hadn't slept in months. She looked as though she had been crying for hours - even now, tears glistened at the corner of her wide eyes, dull and frightened. Her spiky brown hair was disheveled, and her posture was slumping and weary. Terror and sadness radiated from her shadowed form.

"Lena? _Mon chéri_ , you - I - you're supposed to be dead?" Amélie gaped at the anomaly that stood in her cold, dark kitchen at midnight on a Tuesday. Everything about this was disturbingly surreal and yet... it was real.

"Amélie," Lena whispered, taking an uncertain step towards her. "I - oh my God - I - I don't know what's happening, I - I keep going in the past and the future and I keep appearing everywhere and disappearing and I don't know what's happening - Amélie, please help me - I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know what I am, I don't understand any of this -"

Amélie rushed to Lena, willing herself to believe that this was truly real, and embraced her tightly, tears dancing in her eyes. Lena's body was warm against her own - solid and real. She was truly here. Not a dream, not a memory, not a ghost.

"Lena - I'm so glad I - what's happening, Lena, what do you mean you've been going through time -"

"I - I don't know how long I'm going to be here," Lena whispered, her voice trembling, as tears streaked down her face. "I keep... I don't have any control... I stay for seconds, or minutes, or hours, and then I'm... gone, and I keep appearing in different places and different times and - oh my God, Amélie, I'm so scared - I don't know when I'll stop - Amélie, _I think I'm going to die."_

"No - no, _bien amié_ , just hold on, you aren't going to die - I won't let you - I'll help you, I'll do whatever I need to, you won't - you can't -"

Lena's form began to flicker. "Oh my God," she whispered. "It's happening again."

Tears poured freely down Lena's face as she leaned back to look at Amélie's face. "I'm so sorry. I don't want to go. I - I'm so afraid, please, I - I love you, I'm so sorry -"

"Mon chéri, please -" Lena flickered again. "Lena, please -"

"Goodbye, love - maybe one day I'll -"

And she was gone, as suddenly and jarringly as she had come, a phantom here one moment and then gone in the next.

"Lena - Lena - _my love!"_

Amélie fell to the floor, her fists clenched, fighting back tears. The frustratingly clean tiles reflected her own lonely, ghostly silhouette back up at her.

The night was still and silent, as if frozen in time.

Lena's obituary lay open on the dinner table.

A man named Gerard slept in his warm bed, unaware of what happened just below him.

A love letter, signed "Oxton," was crumpled in the bottom of the trash can.

A young woman, frightened and lost, materialized somewhere unknown.

Amélie wept.


End file.
